


Gullible

by Dallas Genoard (Kankri)



Category: Baccano!
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-05
Updated: 2013-08-05
Packaged: 2017-12-22 12:47:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,362
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/913394
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kankri/pseuds/Dallas%20Genoard
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He'd seen so many people stuffed into the backs of cars before. Usually their hands were bound, and their ankles; sometimes they had a gag and a blindfold. He knew what happened to them when one of the Martillo boys got into the driver's seat.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Gullible

[ **March** **1928** ]

Claire is home, but for how long, no one really knows. He himself is most likely included in the group. Luck thinks it's nice to see him; nicer than Keith and Berga seem to deem it, but that's all right. It just meant he'd have more time to play catch-up. That was a nice thought.

Luck has his back rested comfortably against the hood of the car, and the older male is standing before him, and his hands are moving animatedly before him to illustrate whatever point it was he was talking about now – he'd never admit it, but sometimes he tended to tune out when Claire talked, and mostly just watched him, because his actions never confused him, and they never got boring.

" Heya, guys! "

Trotting over from the west area is Firo. He's holding his hat against his head to stave off the chilly winds nudging against it, and his other hand is held up in a wave. Luck is the first to respond, righting himself to stand on his own feet.

" Hello, Firo. Running errands? "

The ginger is all but lost to the world the second he hears Firo's name. He must not have recognized the voice. His eyes light up, and without a second's thought, he's throwing himself over to practically engulf the poor kid in his well-toned arms – the circus had done him wonders, Luck has mused on more than one occasion.

" Whoa, geez, Claire, calm down! " The fedora is sent tumbling, and there's a noise of protest, but Claire isn't listening. His hands are on Firo's cheeks, then his shoulders, then his face again in a flash, and he's talking a mile a minute. Much like Claire, however, Luck doesn't extend the courtesy of heeding whatever conversation the two were having.

Instead, he simply stoops down to pick up the hat, then dusts it off gingerly before holding it over his chest. He takes to his old habit of standing behind the two quietly and observing. Firo is pink in the face, and he seems torn between grinning and scowling all at once; Claire was positively radiant, beaming with excitement as he fawned over ' how much he'd grown, ' and mused over ' why the Hell hadn't he come to watch the show? '

" Claire, " he finally, calmly, cuts in. It's with a keening whine that the addressed man drops his hands from squishing Firo's cheeks, and drops them instead to his shoulders as he rolls his head back to side-eye the one who dared to interrupt him. " I believe you promised to help me with the box in the trunk. Perhaps we can move that into the house first? "

He cocks a brow, and several years of having to communicate in silence ensures that there is a spark of immediate understanding in the redhead's expression, though he doesn't seem any more enthusiastic. At least, not on the surface. But he's smarter than that.

With a dramatic sigh that hunches and drops his shoulders, Claire nods. " Yeah, yeah, alright. I'm comin'. Damn, you learn slave work from Keith? " Sliding his hands off of the green suit top that adorned Firo's shoulders, he spins around smoothly on his toes, and totters over to the back of the car. " Pop the trunk, Luck. Hey, mind givin' me a hand here, Firo? "

" Ah, yeah, sure, " he responds quickly, plucking the hat from Luck once it's extended to him. He plops it in place, then tips it to the older teen with a wink before rushing to Claire's side. " What's in it? Is it more, uh, of that whiskey you guys were shipping in? "

" Keep that up, and we're gonna have some police officers to deal with, " Claire chides matter-of-factly, and that shuts off the faucet of curiosity from his runt of a companion. " Hurry up, Luck, move your ass; you're the one who wants it inside, so don't keep me waitin'. "

Luck sighs, and opens the driver-side door. " If there was an award for impatience, " he drawls as his fingers fumble through levers and buttons to find the one that controlled the latch, " you'd hold it with no competition for the nineteenth year in a row. "

As the sound of the lock sliding away sounds, Firo sets his hands against the trunk lid, and glances upward to Luck. " Um, but isn't Claire only eighteen right now? " he asks uncertainly, but he doesn't get an answer.

Instead, the all-too-familiar feel of arms around his waist happens, and all at once, the world is spinning, the colors are a blur, and – no, everything is colder now, dark and _hard_ , oh God. He yelps, he's sure he yells Claire's name, as well as Luck's. Maybe he calls for Maiza, too, but he's actually not too certain, as he might be panicking more than he really needs to be since he knows this is just a joke.

Not that it's any more _fun_ , knowing that, but still. He'd seen so many people stuffed into the backs of cars before. Usually their hands were bound, and their ankles; sometimes they had a gag and a blindfold. He knew what happened to them when one of the Martillo boys got into the driver's seat. They've never seriously hurt him, and they wouldn't now, but the feeling remains as his hands fly up just as Claire slams the lid of the trunk down over him, ultimately sealing his fate. Or, temporarily sending him into a hysterical fit. Either way it was all the same.

It's actually Luck who starts laughing first, rounding the back of the vehicle and patting the metal hood in contrast to Firo doing the same from the inside. He's a jackass, and he knows it, but the Lord be damned if that didn't somehow make it all the more appealing.

Claire smacks him hard on the back, laughing heartily, and somehow manages to offer a quick inquiry of, " Just _how long_ were you waiting to do to that? " before dissolving into one of the old giggling fits that Luck loved so much. It was one of the few times that someone was genuinely enthused in the hectic life of a mafioso.

Luck shrugs, and grabs Claire's wrist. " Come on. We'll let him out in a second, but I do actually have something I need some help getting inside. This reminded me; if we don't get it inside soon, Dad's going to blow a gasket. "

It had been all of five minutes, at most. The box had been rather heavy, weighed down by layered glass bottles, thick wood of the crate, and quite a good deal of liquor. They'd decided that Firo would probably be extremely ticked off when they opened the trunk, and that they could stand to sit down for a moment to catch their breath so they could haul ass once they unlatched the hood.

But suddenly a tall, lithe woman who didn't look a day over twenty five despite being at least a decade older stormed up behind the both of them, delivering a sharp slap in the back of the head to each boy. " What is wrong with you two? "

Flinching, Claire looks back first. " What – what's wrong? "

But Luck knows what's wrong. He hunches his shoulders, and utters a quiet murmur of a curse before he hurriedly moves off of the couch, making a beeline to the front window to peek outside. " Did he leave yet? "

" I heard him thumping around back there before he took off, you're both _quite_ fortunate! " she snaps in response, and once again, enlightenment catches on in Claire's eyes.

" Oh. Oh, _shit_. " Then he's on his feet as well, the pain in the back of his head forgotten. He's out the door in a few seconds, and Luck catches a hint of his pearly whites in that shark-grin of his that says he doesn't regret a damn thing, but he's willing to fake it with the best of them.

Throwing a guilty glance over his shoulder, Luck files out after Claire. He doesn't intend to offer any honest apology either, but he'd at least make sure Firo stopped trembling before walking him home.


End file.
